


caramel chameleons

by thereisnobearonthisisland



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Tour Fic, and loving phil, hand signals, it's mostly just dan being emo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 22:35:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereisnobearonthisisland/pseuds/thereisnobearonthisisland
Summary: In a Starbucks on one of their tour stops, Dan thinks of all the reasons he misses the Manchester Starbucks he and Phil frequented all those years ago.





	caramel chameleons

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks and all my love to [amber](https://freckliephil.tumblr.com/), [sana](http://cutie-with-booty.tumblr.com/), [katie](https://knlalla.tumblr.com/), [rose](https://moon-boye.tumblr.com/), and [an](https://philsdrill.tumblr.com/), without whom this would be ten times worse.

A bell tinkles above as Dan opens the door to this new Starbucks in a new place, and he frowns.  No other Starbucks he’s been to has done that.  He holds it open, waiting for Phil to walk through the entry first.  His eyes settle on the small of his boyfriend’s back as if the heat of his gaze alone could bring Phil the same warmth as the hand Dan’s so desperately craving to fit into that little dip.  But he can’t.  With a soft sigh, he drops his eyes to the floor and follows Phil inside, letting the door swing shut behind them.  At least this place  _smells_  the same as every Starbucks he’s ever called home.  It’s probably because it’s - well - a Starbucks, but Dan doesn’t really have room to be picky right now.

Phil pauses in the entryway, and Dan looks up to find him glancing from him to the front counter and back to Dan again, his head tilted to the side.  It’s a silent question, the beginning of a wordless conversation.   _Do you want to order, or shall I?_   It’s mundane, much like many of the other silent conversations they have, but it’s necessary at times like these, when they’re in public spaces where anyone could be listening to them, trying to pick apart their conversations bit by bit.  (Or maybe Dan’s just being dramatic.)

He places a hand on Phil’s upper arm because it’s less intimate than placing it on the small of his back, or his waist, or his dick, but they’re still close enough for Dan to ground himself in Phil, Phil, Phil.  “Quietest place you can find?” he whispers in Phil’s ear before dropping his hand and forcing himself to step away.  Friends don’t leave lingering touches on each other’s arms.  Or at least, that’s what their fans have always said. (He and Phil have never been good at following the rules of friendship.  Not even when they were still trying to figure out if they could ever be anything  _more_.)

Phil gives him a little smile, and it’s enough to push him towards the front counter.  He orders two caramel macchiatos, one with soy for Phil.  As much as Phil likes to pretend he’s not lactose intolerant every time he buys a coffee, he is.  And Dan’s not about to let Phil delude himself when  _he’s_  the one buying the coffee.  He pays, thanking the cashier quietly, and goes to stand in the area where he can pick up their drinks when they’re done.

The whole place is buzzing with voices, a never-ending low hum of people trying to have private conversations that can never really be private.  Not here.  It’s why he and Phil usually take their coffee to go.  But today, today they have an hour to kill before they have to get back to prepare for their meet and greet.  Neither of them feels much like staying inside today, though, and Marianne asked them to please not go too far away, so here they are in a Starbucks two streets over.

No one has so much as glanced at either Dan or Phil since they’ve walked in, but Dan’s stomach is still churning as he turns to watch everyone in the shop.  There’s a group of uni students sat at a long table on the near side of the counter.  They’ve all got their laptops open, their headphones plugged in, and they aren’t even looking at each other.  They’re just  _existing_  in each other’s space, and it kind of reminds him of how he and Phil do their work at home, except for the way they seem to be completely unaware of each other.  Dan is always aware of Phil.

On the far end of the counter, smaller tables have been pushed together to form a longer one, and a group of well-dressed people sit in the chairs surrounding it.  If Dan had to guess, he’d say they’re probably having a business meeting.  They’re all dressed in crisp pant suits with fitted blazers, sitting stiffly in their seats as a woman at the head of the table rambles on about whatever the topic of this meeting is.  Half of them are watching with tired, glazed-over eyes, and Dan can't really blame them.  It's Friday.  He'd be exhausted and unable to focus on anything, too, if he were in the same position.  

Dan’s skin itches with each passing second that he spends watching the suited business people.  _That could have been him._   He forces himself to look away before he starts clawing at his throat, as if doing so could strip away the layers and and layers of anxiety pressing against his windpipe right now.  He’s so glad that it  _isn’t_  him, but if he’d just done one thing differently, if he’d decided to stick it out in law school seven years ago, it could very easily have been.  He could have been miserable and exhausted in a meeting on a Friday afternoon, but sure that he’d always be financially secure.  Part of him still wonders if that might have been the right path, or if it would have at least been more secure than fucking about with his boyfriend who had just as little money as he did.  Maybe in another universe he  _did_  choose that path, and he and Phil drifted apart as he put Youtube on the backburner in his life, and they don’t even see each other anymore there.   _Fuck_ , he needs Phil.

He's never been more desperate to seek out Phil than he is in this moment.  There’s bile sitting at the base of his throat, just waiting for Dan to make himself sick enough for it crawl upwards and shoot out of his mouth with the rest of his lunch, and he really fucking needs Phil right now.  Because Phil reminds him of why he made the decision to drop out in the first place.  Phil reminds him that it was the right decision, that there’s more to life than just financial security, and that he’s better off for putting himself before a degree.  (Look at where he is now, on a world tour with the greatest love he's ever known.)  Phil reminds him that it's okay to break the mold sometimes, even if it goes against everything that he  _should_  be doing.  (He and Phil fell in love through the internet, after all.)   Phil reminds him that it's okay to be sad, as long as he doesn't let it fester.  (And Phil always lets him ramble so he  _doesn't_.)  And Phil is always there to give him these reminders when he forgets.

Dan needs a reminder right now, so he scans the room for black hair and a hooked nose.  His eyes pass over couples pressed close together in ways that he and Phil can never be.  At least, not anymore.  Maybe once they were able to.  Back in Manchester, back when no one knew their names and they'd been in the kind of young love that puts blinders on everything but each other.  Back then, they'd had a sofa hidden away from everyone else in that Starbucks, their Starbucks, and they were able to sip their Manchester macchiatos with legs tangled together and soft words whispered into each other's ears.  No one ever bothered them, save for the occasional homophobic jibe from some asshole passing by.  And it was  _good_.

That's not to say that it was perfect.  They were both nearly penniless, and living together even though their parents griped about it being far too early in their relationship to make such a commitment.  They fought with their parents and they fought with each other, and they had no idea if this dream they were chasing on the internet would pan out.  They were stressed and unsure of anything but each other.  It wasn't perfect, but it was good.  They never had to worry about fans spotting them out in public and if they were sitting too close together (they were), if they were looking at each other too fondly (every look they shared was fond), or if, at any given moment, they'd be forced out of a closet they weren't necessarily hiding in, but definitely hadn’t come out of yet (but maybe it would have been easier back then, without the bitter taste of denial from years past on their tongues).

There are a lot of couples here - a burly man in a red flannel sitting across from a tall brunette, two young girls who are so lost in each other that Dan's half tempted to grin stupidly at how easily they can show affection for each other, and half tempted to scold them like a scandalised soccer mom.  There are some obvious first dates and some couples who look like they've been together forever.  There's even an elderly couple.  And as much as Dan would like to say that he's happy to see so much love pouring so openly out of complete strangers, he's really not.  Not today.  There are too many lovers here on an early Friday afternoon, reminding Dan of all the ways that he  _can't_  prove himself just as in love.  Some are giggling behind their hands, eyes glinting with mirth as they toss teasing remarks back and forth to each other.  Others are whispering quietly, completely wrapped up in their own worlds, soft smiles playing on their lips as they take sips of each other's coffees, holding them out of their partner's reach if they like them and wrinkling their noses and pushing the mugs away from themselves if they don't.

Every single couple there is wearing the kind of adoration he wishes he could wear for Phil, and for the first time today, Dan wishes that they'd decided to stay back at the theater.  At least there they wouldn't have to pretend that they're anything less than two completely enamoured fools.  He still hasn't spotted Phil, and it's starting to feel more and more like his throat is swelling shut as each second passes.  It's not, and he knows that Phil has to be around here somewhere, but sometimes you feel things that don't make sense.  At least, not realistically.  Sometimes your throat doesn't swell shut, but you forget how to breathe.  Sometimes your internet idol falls in love with you, and you build a life together despite everyone telling you you’re destined to crash and burn.

The big burly man and the brunette stand up, and finally,  _finally_ , Dan spots a shock of black hair behind them and breathes a sigh of relief.  Phil is here, and he's craning his neck to find Dan, and Dan wonders for the umpteenth time if Phil has some sort of sixth sense to detect when he's feeling anxious.  His lips quirk up when he spots Dan, and Dan feels the entire room melt away as he soaks in the curves of Phil’s cheekbones, the fullness of his bow-shaped lips, the wide expanse of his forehead.  The fwiff is still kind of new, it still shocks Dan from time to time, but he's come to enjoy it, and fuck it all if he can't point out his boyfriend's beautiful forehead at any given opportunity.

He flashes a soft grin back to Phil, swiping his index finger over the bridge of his nose swiftly.  It's a small action, but it means the world to both of them.  Phil's eyes light up, and Dan is so glad that they came up with discreet ways to share their affection all those years ago.  To anyone else, it would just look as if Dan had a slight itch on his nose, but Phil knows better.  Phil knows that a nose swipe means  _I love you_ , just like he knows that three blinks means  _I wish I could kiss you right now_  and that an ear scratch means  _I'm so glad you're here_.  Dan scratches his ear just as the barista calls out his name, and Phil gives him a toothy grin.

Dan grabs the drinks from the barista, thanking them quietly, and heads over to the table Phil's claimed for the two of them.  It's a tall table, which Dan's legs are grateful for, although it's not too wide across, so maybe he shouldn't get too excited.  Their legs are still going to be crammed together, and it’s both a blessing and a curse.  He slips onto the seat across from Phil, sliding the cup with an "s" written on top and a stirrer for Phil across the table to him, and shoves his own stirrer into his cup.  He swirls it around a few times, trying to mix in the caramel as best as he can.

Phil hasn't even touched his yet.  He's just staring at Dan, a goofy smile on his face as he scoots his chair closer to the table so there's less of his lap to spill hot coffee onto.  Or maybe just so he can bump his knees against Dan's.  Either way, Dan's not gonna complain about it.  Phil tilts his head to the side and presses his thumb into his cheek as if that action alone could forcibly insert dimples into them.  Dan grins back, trying to ignore the fact that Phil can still make his heart beat this erratically.  Because pressing a thumb into his cheek means  _I wish we could be alone right now and I wish I could kiss all of your dimples_ , and even though the Starbucks in Manchester allowed them to be more open, Dan doesn’t think he’d trade this for anything.  

The Manchester Starbucks gave them freedom, but it also gave them uncertainty.  And this Starbucks, this is just one stop of many on the second adventure he’s taking around the world with the love of his life.  Phil is the only certainty he really needs, and Phil is right here with him, right now.  The Manchester Starbucks holds hundreds of fond memories, but they’re about to make so many more memories on this tour, and just the thought of new memories makes Dan feel light.  Who’s to say that these won’t be the best memories yet?

Dan blinks three times in rapid succession, and Phil bumps their knees together.  Hooking an ankle around Dan’s, he finally picks up his stirrer and sticks it into his coffee cup.  He swirls it around a few times, just as Dan did earlier.  When he’s done, he licks the foam off of it, and Dan has to bite his lip to keep himself from giggling when Phil’s nose wrinkles.  Phil’s about to be a drama queen, and Dan knows it, but Dan still loves him even when he’s being a drama queen.  Sometimes he loves Phil  _because_  he’s being a drama queen, although he’ll never admit that out loud.

Phil glares at him playfully.  “Daniel.  Did you order me a macchiato with soy milk?”

“Yes, I did.”

“But Dan, macchiatos are better with  _actual_  milk.”  Phil is actually pouting right now, and there’s nothing Dan wants more than to kiss it right off his face.  He blinks three times, and Phil’s pout quirks upward slightly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dan says, blinking innocently.

Phil furrows his brow, and Dan wants to reach across the table and smooth it out.  “I hate you,” he says, jutting out his bottom lip.  He swipes his index finger over his nose.   _I love you_.

Dan brushes two quick swipes over his own nose.   _I love you, too_.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :)
> 
> [like and reblog on tumblr](https://laddyplester.tumblr.com/post/174262408849/caramel-chameleons)


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